There's very little I horribly regret writing from when I started it.
This is because it's under a year old I'd imagine.
The one consistent thing in my life since my twenties is near-crippling shame of the me from two years ago. "I'm better now, honest!"
Life is a learning process and most of the time I feel like I'm working really hard to catch up at basic stuff. Why do pit stains disqualify a shirt from service? It's not like I was shitting out of my armpits, it's just sweat that's crystallized and turned into something More Than Sweat. Sure, if it kills again you throw the shirt away. But the first one should be considered a mistake.
I sort of wonder where I was a year ago when I was writing here. I felt like I'd channeled this "Voice" for a while. It was interesting and I thought as a writer I was going somewhere that now feels like a dead end.
Not genuine I guess. It wasn't bad, I think... it was just unsustainable.
Most of my writing seems to derive from who I was reading when I wrote it.
You can find Cormac, Michael Ian Black, Klosterman, Palianhukczckh, and Sedaris streaked through my writing.
It's embarrassing, actually; often I feel I am style-less myself and merely aping that which I find fashionable.
I think the best part about kids is untarnished idealism.
"It's not fair!" seems like a completely viable argument to a kid.
That's how I feel about work tomorrow.
"It's not fair!"
That is the most depressing thing about my current job. It's basically the dream job - I'm paid well, 10 minutes from home, can work remote, am in a position as an expert. . . it should be great.
But there is still an obligation. I need to be at work tomorrow morning.
Not because I want to, because I have to.
And I've found even when you want to a lot, it's cold comfort when you don't.
But that's what being a grown-up is all about right? We get obligated into shit we don't want to do.
Now excuse me while I go make a baby.
(Babies do terrify me)
It is frustrating, though. A job I should love and yet I'm dissatisfied because it's on Their Terms.
An obligatory link outlining my deficiency.
I'm not sure what would make me happier - the despair dissipates when the weather changes, or it remains.
Technically, I guess if the despair dissipates I am, by definition, happier.
I just blamed it on the rain.